


Wedding Gifts

by Adamarks



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Dwarf!simon, Fluff, M/M, The husbandly kind of husbands!, and then them going, elf!baz, hehehe we’re HUSBANDS, this is just Simon going Im so in love with my fucking husband
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28009890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamarks/pseuds/Adamarks
Summary: It’s dwarven tradition to gift one’s betrothed a handmade item on the wedding night. Simon is determined to gift his soon-to-be spouse the best his hands have to offer.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 16
Kudos: 56





	Wedding Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what the deal is, but I haven’t been able to write more than like 500 words in a day for months. But last night I sat down and wrote this in 2 hours while texting my friends and reading a comic? I guess dwarf Simon really had something to say

The heat of the forge is comforting. 

Spending all my time outside the mountain is fine. It’s good, because of him, but I always find myself just a touch too cold in the forests. And the wide open spaces— sometimes it’s too much. 

It’s been a month since I’ve seen my betrothed. The letters are…  _ fine. _ I love being home, but I love him more. I miss having him about to fix my braids. My beard is back to looking like a nest. I’m tired of reading his letters and using my hand. Quite sick of writing the damned things too. He writes me books and I manage barely a page. He sent me three strands of his hair; I keep them in a pocket close to my heart. (I only asked for one, but he sent me three.) 

I don’t think I can survive another month of this. Once we’re wed, we won’t have to suffer ungodly amounts of time apart. I’ll be able to sleep peacefully again. His breathing is like a lullaby to me anymore. It’s embarrassing. 

I hum as I lift the pot of molten gold. It’s one of the boring elven songs he taught me. His smooth voice sounds much better around the melody. 

It’s taken me months on months to decide what I’d make him. I thought about a traditional dagger, but he’s garbage with a blade. He’d never use it. Then I’d considered an arrow with an engraved head. Pretty, but useless. Perhaps, I’d thought, a ring like in human tradition. It’s fancy enough. Small enough to wear conveniently. It still felt wrong, though. Not perfect.

Then it struck me. 

I pour the gold into the mold. I’ll begin the silver lacing while it sits. The leather I’ve ordered has yet to come in. 

_ An arm brace. _ He never has one that fits his arm or fashion. They’re all ugly and meant exclusively for practicality. Many don’t lace properly or make his clothes bulge oddly until he picks at it. 

I know his arm measurements by memory, it’ll be easy to get the fit perfect. The leather will be blue. The edging gold. The laces silver. I’ll reinforce it with something lightweight, to keep him safe…

I sigh and sag over my work table. 

Hell swallow me whole, I miss him.

-

I’m not as experienced in leatherworking. A wedding gift is supposed to be a challenge, I guess. This has still found itself to be quite the bitch, though. 

The blue it’s dyed is stunning. I’m sure Baz will like it. And it’ll go beautifully with his hair. All this irritation will be worth it, hopefully. 

I grunt as I carve out another bloody flower. Elves and their damned posies. If I ever have to carve another flower after today I’ll rip my own eyes out. 

I scrape out another stupid petal and hear the beard beads he gifted me clack together. My lip twitches. He’s lucky he’s worth more than an eternity spent drawing dandelions. 

-

I finally lace up the finished brace. It’s longer than my bicep and thinner than my wrist. It’ll fit exactly. I wipe my sweaty palms onto my breaches before placing it carefully into the wooden box. 

I’ll be giving it to him tomorrow, on our wedding night. 

-

We fall into our chambers. I’m drunk. He’s drunk. We’re both…  _ drunk.  _

I trip over myself peeling off my boot. Baz starts giggling like a loon on pipeweed and sinks to the floor in a fit. 

“You’re—  _ drunk.  _ My drunk husband,” he wheezes from the stone floor. 

I tear off my tunic—  _ wedding tunic—  _ and chuck it at him. “Lightweight elf!” 

He bats it out of the way and lays down all seductive. On the  _ floor. _ He does the service of undoing the laces of his trousers as I crawl towards him. “Lightweight  _ husband.”  _

I growl and come up to bite his lip. He giggles and tosses a limb onto me. It makes me wobble. 

“Simon,” Baz says. He smells like booze and rancid breath. Or is that me… 

I grunt. 

“My husband…” 

I grunt again. His clothes are too complicated. 

He sighs, content as a pig wallowing in shit. 

He’s right. I’m his husband. He’s mine. 

_ Cool.  _

My eyes snap open, and I lean back. Baz whines at me, trying to grasp onto my clothes. “Wait,” I tell him. 

He grumps, attempting to pull me back down. I have to pry his hands off of me. “Leggo,” I say. “I need to get somethin’.”

“Just use spit and stick it in.”

“Not  _ that.” _

I tear away enough to stand up and reach for the box on the bed. Baz is bemoaning that his husband doesn’t even have the decency to fuck him on their wedding night. I roll my eyes and sit down in front of him, holding the decorated box. 

“It’s…. dwarven—“ what’s the word? I dunno. “Stuff. You have to open your present first.”

Baz sits up and looks down at it. His eyes get shiny. “I didn’t get you anything.” 

“It’s alright,” I tuck his hair back for him. It pools on the floor like the end of the waterfall— or something. I don’t need a present from him. He gives me the world

He grasps my hand before opening the box with the other. His lips fall open as he pulls his gift out. I smile. I’ve won the most beautiful spouse this world has to offer. 

He turns it over then lets go of my hand to run his fingers over the leather carvings.  _ “You have my life,”  _ he reads in Elvish. His fingers dance over the gold trimming as he reads the Dwarven engraving.  _ “When you are my steel, I’ll be your forge.”  _

He slips it onto his arm, then holds it out to me. I adjust the laces, then seal the tie with a kiss. It fits perfectly. 

He turns his arm in the dim light. Then he holds the sides of my face. My heart flips, like it’s the first time. 

“I love you,” Baz whispers. 

He kisses me before I can say it back. 

-

I awake in our bed. I don’t remember us making it to the bed. The amount of dried cum on my torso implies we went more than one time around, though. Baz is wrapped around me. He looks beautiful in the early morning light. He has uh… a bit of bodily fluid in his hair. Well past dried. I’m sure that’ll be fun to get out later. 

He’s naked, aside from the brace. I remember him refusing to take it off as we disrobed. I’d gotten fussed at when I went for the lacing. Guess the countless hours lost on those bloody flowers were worth it. 

I brush his hair away from his face, so that I might watch him better. He stirs, and buries his face into my chest. 

“G’morning,” he mumbles. 

“Good morning, husband.”

I feel him smile against me. 

_ “Husband.” _

  
  



End file.
